


Desperately longing for a candle while in the inferno

by turningofthemoon



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Ass to Mouth, Bad Dragon Toy Mentioned, Body Hair, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Daddy Kink, Dom!Richie, Dom/sub, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Exhibitionism, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Richie Horsecock Tozier, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Richie Tozier Has a Hair-Pulling Kink, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Size Queen Eddie Kaspbrak, Spit Kink, Sub!Eddie, Top Richie Tozier, oops there's feelings in my porn!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningofthemoon/pseuds/turningofthemoon
Summary: Being in love with your best friend is the worst feeling in the world--A fic about mutual pining, failed seduction, falling in love with your best, falling into bed with them, and all the good and bad that comes with it.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 32
Kudos: 355





	Desperately longing for a candle while in the inferno

Your early twenties are a weird time in your life, anyone will tell you that, but especially any of the Losers. They made the decision as a group to move out to LA - Mike and Bill moving in together and immediately falling into a perfect relationship, Bev and Ben securing a lovely little cottage outside of the city with a garden that Stan comes over to tend, while Stan is on his own, steadfastly refusing to live with Eddie and Richie, citing their chaotic energy as bad for his sleep. Eddie and Richie, or rather EddieandRichie, end up in a cramped two-bedroom in an old building that has exposed brick and weird neighbors, but that is perfectly located for Eddie’s commute to nursing school and Richie’s frequent trips to the comedy clubs to grow his routine and get his name out.

The best part of their twenties so far is the fact that each and every one of them is thriving. Far from Derry, their lives are exciting and entwined, personal and professional growth coming in leaps and bounds, smiles a constant fixture on each of their faces.

Not to say that they don’t each have their own struggles. Richie is tearing his hair out trying to write new routines that feel authentic and get laughs, Mike’s busting his ass to get his degree in library sciences while Bill is pumping out short stories non-stop just hoping to get published. Stan is stuck doing grunt work for his accounting firm until they wise up and promote him, Ben is doing the same at his architecture firm while Bev is fetching coffee for designers that make objectively hideous clothing and sewing until her fingers bleed each night. Eddie, personally, thinks he has it worst of all. Extensive therapy and cutting his mother off has helped him overcome his trauma in a way he never thought possible, but he can’t help getting anxious when he gets coughed on by patients, and he gets himself worked up into frenzies sometimes cleaning the apartment, snapping at Richie and shutting himself off from his friends every time his mother tries to call him. 

That’s just the part that his friends know, though. He doesn’t like keeping secrets from them (and he’s objectively terrible at it) but he just doesn’t know how to tell them. It’s not abnormal, he rationalizes, to be a virgin at twenty-two. Lots of people are. None of his friends are, Stan’s got a lovely girlfriend who is so sweet and funny as hell, not hesitating to make him blush by drunkenly sharing tips with Bev, and Bev and Ben of course have each other and Mike and Bill do too. Richie, is...well it’s Richie. He’s been bragging about his exploits for so long, and Eddie goes to every single gig that his schedule allows, so he knows from Richie’s jokes that he’s getting laid constantly. It makes sense, with how weird their schedules are, he has the apartment to himself plenty. 

It’s also not unheard of to fall in love with your best friend. But it fucking sucks. Bev knows, because despite Richie being Eddie’s best friend, Bev and Eddie have a unique connection, born of quiet nights sharing tips to handle triggers and late night phone calls after a nightmare about their parents. So, yes, Bev knows. And Bev encourages Eddie to go for it, winks at him and teases him and gives him tips on how to give a blowjob and seems so confident that Eddie thinks he has a chance, that it’s worth the risk to try.

So, try he does.

\---

Of course, it won’t be easy. Living together and being as close as they are, Eddie has seen Richie’s dick before. It’s just a part of life which would be totally fine, if only Richie had a normal dick. He may be a virgin, but he’s seen his fair share of dicks. Including all of their friends, after one drunken night skinny dipping, during which he concluded that it was a miracle any of their partners could ever walk straight, but for all their lovely, normal sized dicks, there had to be an outlier. It wasn’t Eddie and his perfectly acceptable, absolutely average self. No, it was Richie, with his just ridiculously monster dick. And that’s not even to mention that after one awkward time where Eddie really, really should have knocked, he knows that Richie is a fucking grower, and that it was really just stupidly long and thick. For a starter dick, it was going to be a challenge.

Eddie is always up for a challenge though.

But naturally the key to beating any challenge, even one related to his asshole, is all about preparation and research. So research he does, including one very uncomfortable conversation with Stan, because thanks to one of Patty’s answers in Never Have I Ever, he knows that Stan knows all about taking a toy in your ass. He starts small and slow, little toys that somehow manage to change his world. Gone are nights of fingering himself quietly while Richie hums from the kitchen, because even the simple and slender plug he starts with leaves him whining and moaning so loud that he has to shove his fist in his mouth and blink away tears from how good it feels inside him. It doesn’t help him stay quiet when he imagines Richie bursting through the door to check on him and finding him like this, ass in the air and cock leaking wildly, instead he has an orgasm so intense he blacks out for a second. After that, all bets are off. He’s so grateful that his father left him money for college and that the part time job he has at the yoga studio pays ridiculously well, because as soon as he wipes the cum off his face - wondering how it even got up that high - he grabs his phone and orders a half dozen more toys, each bigger and bigger than the last, the most ambitious of which comes from a website he heard Richie joke about because of how silly their products were. Silly, yes, but big. Richie big. 

It takes almost two months of practice and a frankly obscene amount of lube, the people at the corner store must think that he hosts orgies in his spare time at this rate, but he finally conquers it on a free night while Richie’s at a gig. He feels bad, he begged off playing sick and Richie offered to cancel, Eddie had to all but shove him out the door, palms sweaty in shivery anticipation. He does it in the bathroom because he wants easy cleanup and he knows by now that he’s going to come at least twice doing this, and he’s gonna need a wild amount of lube and preparation to make it fit.

He brings his supplies into the bathroom, along with his phone in case of sex emergency, and lights some candles to set the mood. He didn’t personally name the toy, but it was called Echo, which made him lick his lips, because it made him imagine the aftershocks of his orgasm echoing through him while he was clamped tight around it’s frankly ungodly shaft.

He takes his time preparing, laid on a fluffy towel on the floor, slicking his fingers up and gently running the pad of his middle finger along his hole, circling it while lightly pinching his nipple with his other hand. The foreplay isn’t really needed, he’s already hard, precum beginning to bead at his tip, but he’s indulging himself, imagining Richie standing over him, jerking his stupid big cock in his stupid big hands while telling Eddie what to do. He slips the tip of his finger inside, barely giving himself time to adjust before burying it in deep, a quiet whine slipping from his throat. It doesn’t take long for one finger to become two to become three, his pinkie teasing at slipping in, his imaginary Richie pulling his head with a tight grip on his hair so he can shove his cock down Eddie’s throat, and Eddie groans loud and long before using his free hand to grab the toy and force it halfway into his mouth. The sensation of being filled at both ends makes his eyes roll back into his head, the stretch of his cheeks prompting him to wiggle his pinkie in alongside the rest of his fingers, spreading open in a way that feels good to the core of him, hips bucking up and gurgling around the toy in his mouth. He fucks himself down hard on his fingers for a long time, thighs shaking and drool leaking down his chin, pornographic noises coming from him on both ends. 

Eventually he pulls the toy out of his mouth and sets it on the floor, leaving his fingers tucked inside while he uses one hand to put the lube open again and just upends the bottle onto it before setting the bottle aside in case he needs more. Even though he goes slow and careful pulling his fingers out, he still shivers the whole time, letting out a frankly embarrassing whimper, which is why he’s so glad that Bev and Richie have a ‘girls night’ planned for after his show.  
He takes a deep breath, rolls over onto all fours and slides just the tip inside - and it looked big, sure, but feeling something so large breach his hole has him dripping obscenely onto the floor, and he never took himself for a size queen, but the way his hips are fucking back immediately, pushing the toy deeper and deeper with no heed for the harsh burn it causes has him reconsidering. He gets halfway down its length with relative ease before he has to take a break, sweating and shivering and moaning, to let himself adjust. Part of him, that desperate, needy part, wishes that Richie would come bursting through the door, distraught with worry, and stumble into the bathroom - that he would grab the base of the toy and push it in deeper, shove Eddie’s face into the floor and use it to fuck into him until he’s crying. The thought is enough to make him force the rest of the silicone into himself, and the combination of the sting, his fantasy, and the angle it’s hitting his prostate at is enough to make his first orgasm wash over him with no warning. It’s so sudden and so unexpected and so good, his asshole trying desperately to clench tight and his thighs shaking and he knows he has to be alarming the neighbors but he doesn’t care even a little, his body shaking and writhing and come splattering all over the towel and the floor and his chest - a ridiculous amount of come for how often he’s been getting off lately.

It takes a few minutes for the aftershocks to finish ravaging his body, each one causing him to whimper and clench down even harder, eyes rolling back in his head at the oversensitivity, but eventually they fade away and catches his breath, wiping his teary eyes on his shoulder before sitting up onto his knees. Eddie has a lot of thoughts, and a six point plan to seduce Richie, but he knows he’s going to ride Richie, no matter what. He wants to look into his eyes and kiss his mouth and let Richie leave bruises all over his neck, and just like that, he’s hard again.  
The new angle is more difficult on his wrist, but it gets so much deeper, he can feel it in his fucking stomach like this, like he’ll be able to feel Richie. Eddie takes his free hand, starting to fuck his hips down onto the one holding the toy, and starts at the top of his head, tugging his hair, putting a light pressure on his own throat, before toying at his nipples. The whole time, he’s wondering what Richie would be doing to him - would he be gentle, pressing kisses to his face and telling him how good he looks? Would he be rough, dragging Eddie’s hips down harder and biting his skin to leave marks all over it? Would he be mean, telling Eddie what a stupid slut he is, make him do all the work, tell him he’s not allowed to jerk off, that he has to come from his big dick alone or he can’t come at all?

It’s the last thought that does him in, he fucks the toy into himself hard and fast, wrapping his other hand around his cock and yanking it with no care for rhythm or finesse, his hips caught between fucking himself back on the girth in his ass and the tight friction of his fist. It’s too soon, his aching balls tightening up, his abused hole fluttering and burning, his dick sore and sensitive, but it’s so fucking good when he comes all over his fist, all but collapsing onto the floor with a scream that likely has someone calling the cops.  
\---  
He doesn’t realize he passed out until he blinks awake, hand glued to his face with his dried come, toy still nestled in his cheeks, towel bunched uncomfortably beneath him. Scrunching his nose, he peels his hand from his cheek with a disgusted noise and grabs for his phone to make sure he didn’t die from the orgasm. Luckily, he’d only been out for about twenty minutes, which was still a little alarming, and he shoots off a text to ask Bev if it’s normal to pass out after an intense orgasm, as it was a first for him. Unhelpfully, she just responds with a string of emojis, including eyes, water droplets, and a crying laughter face, but he takes it to mean that he won’t die. Gathering all his strength, he slowly slides the toy out, letting out a breath from between his teeth at the pain it causes, at how empty he feels...he prods at his hole, checking for damage and winces at how open it is, almost like he could fit his whole fist in there which...is a thought for a much later day after extensive research. There’s no blood, thank fuck, so he places the toy in the sink and starts the shower, cleaning it as the water heats up. He catches a glimpse at his reflection in the mirror and stops in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but this...this fucking slut in the mirror isn’t it. There’s come smeared on his face and chest, his hair is mussed beyond belief, and the most satisfied look in his eyes, he looks like he just went ten rounds with someone, or maybe a round with ten people, and he kind of loves it. 

In a moment of pure recklessness and post-orgasm brain, he snaps a quick selfie and saves it in a locked folder, because he isn’t his own type, but the little nympho he looks like is definitely his type and he thinks it may just be Richie’s type - not that he’s met any of them, except his shitty and thankfully short-term boyfriend, Kyle but he was...well, he was short and confident and sassy, and the way he was always covered in bruises had to say something about the way Richie fucked him. If he stays on that train of thought for too long he’ll just make himself sad though, so Eddie shakes himself off and hops in the shower, focusing on his pride that step one of the Operation: Seduce Richie is completed.  
\---  
By the time Richie and Bev stumble in, drunk and giggling and falling all over each other, Eddie has long since cleaned up, stashed everything away and is on the couch in a shirt he adamantly denies stealing from Richie even though everyone knows he did and a pair of tiny shorts that Bev made him that say “bottomphobic” across the butt, watching Planet Earth and dozing off. Neither Bev nor Richie is known for being quiet, but when he wakes at the sound of Richie tripping over his own shoes and falling on his face in the entryway he just laughs and stretches, too-big shirt slipping off his shoulder. Richie looks up at him, glasses askew and his whole face lights up with a smile - and that, that is why Eddie is doing this whole plan. Because god, his heart skips when he sees Richie look at him like that, he’s so fucking in love with this stupid gangly idiot, he just wants to jump his bones and also marry him and spend the rest of his life seeing that smile.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie crows, staggering to his feet and barely catching himself from tripping over his shoes again as Bev laughs, “feeling better?”

Eddie opens his arms and lifts a corner of the blanket up in invitation, “much better, how was your show?”

“Amazing! As always,” Beverly answers, shoving Richie aside to snuggle into one of Eddie’s sides, laughing at the pout Richie gives her before he plops on the couch and crosses his arms, putting on a grumpy face, and he’s so clearly drunk and riding the high of his performance that Eddie feels bad for skipping out, and shoots Bev a quick smile before forcing Richie to uncross his arms and crawl into his lap, tucking his face into Richie’s neck.

“Sorry for missing your show, Rich, I’m sure you killed it.” His body is immediately welcomed, big arms wrapping around his middle and Richie presses a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head, holding out a hand in invitation for Bev to join them, which she does, resting her head on Eddie’s back and stretching her legs out along the length of the couch.

“S’okay, button, you’re always there,” he replies, his hand warm and rubbing down Eddie’s back, covering so much of it that Eddie feels absolutely surrounded by him. “Besides, you didn’t feel good, I’d rather you take care of yourself, I know how stressful balancing work and school is for you.”

It’s in moments like these that Eddie doubts his plan just a little, because he doesn’t want to manipulate Richie, or ruin their friendship, but he just loves Richie with his whole heart, he always has, and he knows Richie loves him too, he just hopes the way they love each other matches up. He’s caught up in his thoughts, snuggling in to the warmth Richie radiates, listening to the quiet rumble in Richie’s warm, broad chest as he talks in a low voice to Bev, voices matching the quiet hum of the television still on the background, and Eddie feels so perfect in the moment that he begins to doze off again, not even really registering when a large hand drops to his thigh, rubbing gentle circles on the skin just underneath the hem of his shorts. A pleased hum comes from his throat as he drifts off, warm and safe and with two of the people he loves most in the world pressed against him.  
\---  
After that night, when Eddie wakes up tucked into bed with a post it on his forehead reading ‘grocery shopping for us, no you can’t come, get some sleep’ in Richie’s nearly illegible scrawl, Eddie decides he needs to ramp his plan up, because his heart feels like it’s going to burst with his love and he can’t draw this out any longer than he already has - he needs to know now what it feels like to kiss Richie and what it feels like gag on his cock. So, he quickly prepares his next mission.  
\---  
“Oh good, you’re back, can you help me?” Casting a look over his shoulder, he gives Richie a genuine smile as he walks in and places a few reusable bags full of produce from the farmers market and basics from the grocery store Eddie prefers.

Richie puts the milk and Eddie’s almond milk away, “sure, whatcha need, short stuff?”

Eddie’s in a basic downward dog, a cropped t-shirt on and his spandex bike shorts hugging his ass in a way he knows is obscene, not to mention that he’s wearing a plug with a jeweled base because, and yes he checked, the outline is pretty clear through the fabric. “I’m pretty good at this pose but I know I want it to be harder and I know I can do it deeper, I just can’t seem to get to get there alone,” and yeah, he sounds like a bad porn, but Richie’s head is tilted at a slight angle and his eyes are focused on Eddie’s ass, his mouth hanging open just a little, so clearly it’s working. “Can you help? You just have to grab my hips and pull them up a little more, it’ll make the stretch better, please?” Richie’s head whips to make eye contact, his cheeks have the slightest flush to them and Eddie goes for broke, batting his eyelashes just so and licking his lips.

“Um, yeah, sure dude, whatever you need man,” he arches his back just a little more as Richie stands behind him and presses his hips up as big hands encircle his hips and pull him up, and he’s bent almost in half now, and the combination of Richie’s hands, the burn in his thighs, and the way Richie’s crotch just jostled the plug into his prostate has him letting out a quiet moan that he just can’t hold in, which prompts a quiet noise from the depths of Richie’s throat.

The hands on his hips tighten to just the wrong side of painful, which is the right side of painful for Eddie, before they release entirely and Richie stumbles to the door and he’s bright red and stuttering, his hands grabbing one of the empty canvas bags and fidgeting with it held in front of his crotch, “I um, you know I just, I remembered, I forgot to get wine, and I just, I’m gonna go grab that, be right back.”

He’s out the door before Eddie can protest, because he really thought was going to be it, the moment, and Eddie plops himself down on his mat, groaning in frustration as he calls Bev. As he relays the story, she’s cackling in his ear, barely able to catch her breath at how hard she’s laughing. “This was your idea!” He reminds her, tone petulant and childish, “You said it would work!”

She snorts, inelegant and so Bev that he smiles despite himself, “Hon, it did work. I bet you he’s in his car thinking of your mom naked to calm himself down, he was probably so close to wrecking you! It’s working, don’t get discouraged!” He feels a little better, and they chat, and he’s still on the phone when Richie comes back a half hour later, with two bottles of Eddie’s favorite wine and a bag of takeout from their go-to takeout place, an apologetic smile on his lips.

He was frustrated, horny, and hurt, but it’s such a sweet gesture that he finishes up with Bev and they settle on the couch, watching a shitty horror movie and drinking wine in the middle of the day, Richie’s hands on his ankles between wild gesticulations and bites of food, and he doesn’t watch the movie at all, just looking softly at Richie and smiling, faking interest in the screen occasionally so Richie won’t see the blush on his face at the wild grin cast his way by Richie’s wide mouth.  
\---  
It ramps up after that failure, guided by Bev’s wild encouragement and increasingly obscene suggestions, in more and more ridiculous and extra ways, including “accidentally” leaving some porn open on his computer which he left on the kitchen counter, waltzing into the living room to grab something in his shorts and nothing else so Richie drops his game controller, jerking off a little too loud in the shower with the door open, washing a moderately sized plug and leaving it dry in the bathroom, asking Richie for help stretching in his new shorts from Bev she gave him with no warning, that say “BOTTOM” across the ass to match the other ones she made him.

But nothing works. And Eddie feels more and more dejected, spending less time with Richie each time he makes an excuse to leave the room, each time he coughs and changes the subject, each time he practices a routine with jokes about all the sex he’s having.

Eddie spends more and more time in his room, door closed, just staring at the photostrip from the booth they jumped in after Richie’s first successful show, with the pictures of Richie kissing him on the cheek and looking at him so gently. 

He wallows. 

He stops trying to get anything from Richie, sullen and rejected, and their friends all know something’s wrong, but no one knows what except for Beverly, who does her best to cheer him up, to express her confusion at Richie’s reaction, to tell him Richie’s a moron, that he’s blind, that he’s feeling the same, but Eddie know’s she’s just trying to make him feel better, which almost makes him feel worse, so he fakes smiles and laughs for her and throws himself into work, picking up extra classes so he doesn’t have to be home when Richie is, “accidentally” having his schedule conflict with Richie’s so he can’t go to shows. And it fucking hurts. A month ago, there was a huge thunderstorm, and his mom called him from a blocked number and he had a shitty day at class all at once, and Richie made him dinner and they cuddled up on Richie’s bed and watched old movies and Richie did impressions for him and let him sleep there, curled around him protectively, kissed his hair.

Now they haven’t spoken in almost a week.

Richie has been pulling back from him too, in a way that cuts through to his core. They’re not RichieandEddie anymore. It’s Richie. And Eddie. Spaces between them in a way there’s never been, not when they fought the clown, not since they became friends as kids on the playground. Richie spends more time at the bars after his shows, comes home more drunk, doesn’t come home at all, their text chain goes stagnant, Richie starts closing his door which he absolutely never did when Eddie was home.

And if Eddie cries himself to sleep over it, if he puts Richie’s shirt over his pillow and hugs it, soaking it through with his tears, if he stops wearing cute clothes, if he withdraws from their friend group and barely interacts in the group chat, if he has deep bags under his eyes and throws himself into work and school and tries to keep himself so busy that he can’t think about it at all, that’s his business.

Until it’s not just his business.  
\---  
It starts like any other night shift in the hospital, he’s doing his rounds and everything is relatively quiet, when calm is broken by screams.

What actually happens is a blur to Eddie, he ran towards the screaming instead of away, and his coworkers tell him he saved lives. All he knows is there was a guy, thin and ragged and spitting angry, and he had a knife pointed at a patient and he was screaming and...and look, everyone is telling Eddie how brave he is, but he honestly blacked out.

He’s at the police station, now, and they tell him that the patient was the man’s wife, that he was the reason she was there, that he a note in his pocket, that he was planning on killing her and then himself, and that Eddie saved her life and that the man is going to be put behind bars. And they thank him for what he’s done, tell him that the hospital called his emergency contact and he honestly hasn’t processed any of it, it just happened and it was instinct and he doesn’t want to be called brave for just reacting.

And he’s sitting there, in a chair, hands around a cup of coffee that he isn’t drinking, just looking at. He’s wrapped in a blanket over his pale purple scrubs, and he’s shaking, and he might be crying, he doesn’t even know anymore, nothing feels like it’s actually happening to him.

So, Eddie isn’t really aware of a commotion until he hears his name and looks up, bleary eyed and exhausted, when it’s nearing two in the morning. “Richie?” He asks, blinking, seeing Richie throw himself through the entrance, hair in a messy bun and eyes wild, wearing his flamingo pajama pants and a shirt that’s inside out, mismatched shoes on his feet. He’s scanning the office frantically, looking like he’d tear the whole world apart for Eddie, and they haven’t talked in about a month at this point beyond stilted words in passing, haven’t spent any time together, haven’t had movie night or sleepovers or even just sat in the same room, enjoying each other’s space, they haven’t been RichieandEddie in so long and yet here Richie is, running to Eddie and gathering him up in his arms, murmuring reassurances, telling him he’s okay, saying how scared he was.

And none of this would have happened if Eddie wasn’t so greedy for Richie, if he had just been okay with how everything was, if he hadn’t tried to make it more. And he’s tired, he’s just so fucking tired.

So he breaks.

The coffee is dropped to the floor, ignored in favor of curling himself into Richie, burying his face in his chest and sobbing, fucking shaking apart. It all comes crashing in on him at once, he tackled a man nearly twice his size with a weapon, he pushed his best friend away, he’s been so depressed and miserable and he feels every second of that and just clings, soaking Richie’s shirt while Richie’s strong arms cradle him, and it feels like nothing has happened at all, like they never grew apart.  
\---  
Time blurred together again, one moment he was at the police station, clinging to Richie, the next they were in the car, his hand cradled in a much larger one, a thumb running across the back of it, then he’s in the apartment, in the entryway, Richie kneeling in front of him and taking his shoes off, murmuring gentle instructions and reassurances at him. He vaguely registers everything, as Richie helps him out of his clothes and into the shower, his movements soft but perfunctory, being dried off and dressed in a pair of Richie’s sweatpants, band shirt, and hoodie, lead into the kitchen. He eats the toast and drinks the tea that is placed in front of him, feels the arm wrapped around his shoulder, and slowly starts coming back into his body, and his body is exhausted. Richie leads him to his bedroom, but Eddie shakes his head, finally finding his voice.  
“I know...I know things have been...” He trails off, looking down at his hands, dwarfed by the long sleeves of Richie’s hoodie, ashamed to look Richie in the eyes. “But can, can I stay with you tonight? I just, I don’t want to be alone.” He feels the tears start to come again, but Richie’s thumb rubs under his eye as he gently tilts Eddie’s face to look up at him.

“Of course you can,” A wide grin spreads across Richie’s face and he scoops Eddie in his arms, prompting a surprised giggle and Eddie throwing his arms around Richie’s neck to keep himself steady. “But only if I get to carry you!” The walk to his, much messier, bedroom is almost non-existent with the size of their apartment, but he doesn’t falter once under the added weight, gently setting Eddie on his bed and kicking his own shoes off next to the bed, slipping under the covers with him.

And Richie is acting like nothing has changed, like this traumatic night grants Eddie immunity from ruining their friendship. Like they can move past it, like Eddie just needs his friend. And that’s true enough, but he’s also being selfish. Just for this last night. This is the last time he’ll ask Richie for anything. Maybe he’ll move in with Stan, put some distance between them in a healthier way, just tell Richie the truth, explain that he needs some time, that he wants to keep their friendship, that Richie means too much to him to lose him over something so unimportant as his love. But he will let himself be selfish tonight, he will let himself take what he needs before he releases Richie, before he forces himself to move on, to let Richie go and let him be loved by someone and let him love someone without Eddie hanging over him like a pathetic cloud of longing.

But tonight - tonight he wants to be held, to feel like Richie loves him, like Richie could ever love him. He knows it’s one sided, and they’re best friends, they’ve shared beds hundreds of times before, and if he wants to move on, he’s going to have to give that up, but he’s weak and tired and dejected. But Richie isn’t holding him. He’s laying rigid on his side, his breathing is shallow and Eddie is on his side of the bed, the side with an extra charger because of how often they used to do this, the side with the extra pillow because Eddie likes to sleep with two even though Richie only uses one. And every single other time, they’ve cuddled, curled around each other, shared warmth and comfort, but not tonight.

Only a few months ago when they had a big storm, they’d been watching a movie when the power went out, and Richie asked Eddie to stay, saying he’d sleep better knowing Eddie was right next to him, and he’d barely agreed before Richie was dragging Eddie’s arm around himself so he could snuggle in as the little spoon, and now he’s sitting here stiff as a board. 

Eddie breaks the tense silence to quietly ask what’s wrong, slipping his hand over Richie’s bicep and Richie gently shrugs him off, claiming he’s too hot tonight, that it’s been a hard day and Eddie will sleep better without Richie drooling on him. But Eddie can hear the lie in his voice and he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears in his eyes. This night, this week, this month, this endlessly long period of longing and being in love with his best friend has just broken him. He can’t just lay here and sleep and pretend this is enough. He’d rather sleep alone. He’d rather call Bill or Stan and sleep on their couches, he’d rather get in the car and drive to the beach and sit in the cold ocean and cry. 

But he’s weak, and he’s wanting and he needs this over now. Richie doesn’t love him, and he can deal with that, someday, he thinks, but he can’t stand this feeling after everything he’s been through today, after the way Richie has taken care of him.

He asks, quiet and wounded, barely able to be heard over the loud silence of the room, “Why don't you want me, Rich? I’m not like, mad or whatever, I just...I thought you liked me too, I thought we had this mutual...I mean I was sure at the very least that you wanted to fuck me, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes. Clearly I was wrong, and that’s fine or whatever,” his voice breaks off for a moment, and it’s clear that it’s not fine, because the tears are slipping out of his eyes and down his cheeks, he pushes the sleeves of Richie’s shirt viciously into them, he wants to rip Richie’s clothes off, wants to be anywhere but in this moment, this moment that’s been years coming. Being in love with your best friend is the worst feeling in the world, he’d take the fucking clown over this at this point, and he’s sniffling and it’s pitiful and embarassing and when he opens his mouth again, his stupid throat is betraying him by not working at all, so his voice comes out cracked and wobbly “I just-I just need to know why. Because if it’s something I did I can...I can do better, I can be better, but if it’s...if it’s just me-”

The words stick in his throat, so painful that he can’t get them out before a pathetic sob overtakes him, wracking his whole body, and Richie was sitting there in stunned silence, had rolled over to look at Eddie with a furrowed brow and his mouth hanging open slightly, eyes unreadable. But the sound of Eddie breaking shocks him into motion and he shushes him gently, pulls Eddie into his arms, holds tight when Eddie tries to push away, speaking over his protests.

“Eds, Eddie, fuck, Eddie, sit still for a sec, Jesus Christ you’re about to knee me in the fucking balls, dude, let me talk!” His words make Eddie laugh despite himself, and he settles a little bit, still refusing to look up, unwilling to make eye contact while Richie breaks his heart. “Eddie, fuck, you just...you can’t just say shit like that. Of course,” breaking off to take a deep breath, Eddie can feel the way Richie goes a little tense around him, hear him clearing his throat as he steels himself for something that Eddie honestly cannot predict at this moment. “Of course I want you, Eds, I’d have to be a fucking blind moron not to want you, have you fucking seen you?” He chuckles, one of his hands slipping to hold Eddie’s lower back, the other tilting his face so that he finally has to make eye contact, and fuck, he wishes he could decipher the unreadable expression on Richie’s face right now. “I can’t, though Eddie, I can’t just...Eds, I want more than that and I’m, fuck, I’m the wost friend ever, I know I pushed you away and I know what you were doing, but Eddie I’ve been in love with you my whole life. It’s not fair to you or to me to just fuck you when I want so much more.” Stunned, Eddie just blinks up at him as Richie thunks his forehead gently onto his own.

“You are a blind fucking moron.” The words are out before he thinks twice about them, and he moves before he considers it for even a second, kissing Richie in a desperate press of teeth and tongues and lips. Pulling back for a second, he smacks Richie’s gigantic forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m so clearly in love with you, how the fuck can you not know this, do I have to do fucking everything around here?” They kiss again, a little calmer, a little less desperate, giggling into each other’s mouths like a couple of lovesick teenagers, which apparently they could have been doing when they were lovesick teenagers.

It doesn’t stay cute and soft long before Eddie is pushing Richie back, sliding into his lap and biting at his lip, bringing Richie’s hands around to his ass and grinding down against Richie, moaning when he can feel Richie’s stupid big dick, and how is it this big even when it’s soft? Maybe he’ll let Eddie sleep with it inside when they’re done, keep him nice and open, and fuck that’s a thought. But just as he’s reaching for hem of his borrowed shirt, Richie grips his wrists - in one hand, and Eddie is a simple person, he wants to be manhandled and fucked, so it just makes him whine - but Richie talking “Eddie, fuck, god, please do not take this the wrong way, but we are not going to fuck tonight. You had a hell of a day, we’ve both had an emotional rollercoaster, it’s like four am, we both need some sleep, but I swear to get Eddie, if we can both agree to get a good night’s sleep, I will fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, I swear!”

Eddie’s whining a little in his throat, but he blushes bright red, he can feel it on his face and his chest and he decides to break out the big guns, looking up at Richie through his lashes and sticking his bottom lip out just a little, playing it up for show as Richie releases his hands with raised eyebrows, “Well, actually, Richie,” he runs his freed hands up his broad chest, licking his lips before biting down on it just a little before continuing. “I never have been fucked before...”

It’s nerve wracking, he thinks Richie will be okay with it, thinks he might even find it hot, but it’s still embarrassing, Bev is the only person who knows the truth, the rest of the Losers still think he lost his virginity a couple years ago to random dude that he brought home from their monthly outing to a gay club when in reality, they got as far as heavy making out when Eddie pushed the really nice guy, Griffin, away and word vomited at him about how in love with Richie he was, and the guy just laughed and offered support before they platonically cuddled. He still gets occasional updates from Griffin, who was now part of a very loving three-person relationship and had actually been a great resource for Eddie in the past month.

In the present moment though, Richie hissed through his teeth, and Eddie could feel the way Richie’s cock filled out and twitched at that, and watched the way he leaned his back to groan. “Fuck, Eds, what about your twink friend?”

“Never made it past second base,” Eddie confesses, feeling shameless now at Richie’s reaction, and more turned on than he’s ever been in his whole life, “I told him how I couldn’t, how much I wanted you, how I felt like it would be better if you were my first,” and Richie, god, Richie growls, grips his hips too tight in his hands and grinds up, hips stuttering as his cock pushes against Eddie’s ass, causing him whine. “I’ve waited for you, Richie, please don’t make me wait longer.”

“Fuck, you little slut!” Flipping them over, Richie pins his smaller body with his weight, and Eddie feels that this is finally the moment, he feels so fucking ready and that's when Richie says “No, you will not goad me into this.” His voice is firm, in a way Eddie’s never heard it before and it’s not helping his cause, it just makes Eddie writhe a little until Richie threads his fingers through his hair and holds his head back and something purely instinctive in Eddie causes him to go limp everywhere except his cock, looking up Richie and panting. “No, listen to me, Eds. We are going to sleep and we are going to cuddle, you are going to be good and I’ll reward you in the morning, after we talk about some boundaries, got it?” Eddie pouts a little, but nods.

“One condition?” He asks, voice quiet and tentative but charged in a way he’s never heard it before. Richie raises his eyebrows but doesn’t move off of Eddie, waiting for him to continue. “Can we kiss some more first?” The harsh look on his face melts, as does his body and he rolls back over, pulling Eddie onto his chest and kissing his lips gently, hands roaming over his body but staying away from the areas Eddie wants them the most, until he settles down and they trade kisses, nibbles and flicks of their tongues until he yawns directly into Richie’s mouth, who just laughs and kisses his forehead.

“Sleep, kitten, I’ll be here in the morning.” Drifting off, Eddie snuggles into his chest, smile wide on his face and heart full in a way he never imagined it could be. The last thing he hears before he fades out is a murmured, pleased. “Love you.”  
\---  
Eddie woke before Richie did, slowly and easily, feeling more safe and comfortable than he ever has before, Richie’s big arms around him and one hand firmly gripping his ass, fingers wrapping perfectly around one cheek, the only part of their bodies that seem to be in proportion with each other. He stretches, luxuriating in the knowledge that Richie loves him as well, that he wants him, that the only place to go from where the are now is up. Smiling, he presses gentle kisses all over Richie’s face - his closed eyelids, the almost beard on his jaw, his proud nose and sharp cheekbones, his plush lips slack with sleep. Richie wakes slowly under his mouth, stirring underneath him, hand instinctively gripping harder and eyes fluttering open - it takes a moment for them to focus without his glasses, and Eddie takes the opportunity to kiss his mouth again, heedless of morning breath from either of them, sighing happily when Richie returns it and uses the hand not on ass to hold the back of his neck and keep him right where he is. Impish, teasing, he flicks his tongue against Richie’s before whispering into his mouth, “Morning, Daddy.” He tastes, feels, breathes the groan he gets in response.

“Fuck, kitten...” Keeping his hands right where they are, Richie rolls them over and settles his weight over his own smaller body, caging him in and biting at his lip, using his frame to keep Eddie pinned, he couldn’t move if he wanted to and that has the rest of his body waking up easily, cock starting to twitch in his boxers. “Nope, I told you you’d be getting wrecked this morning and I stand by that, but we are eating breakfast and laying down some ground rules, got it?” Richie bites a mark into his neck as he says this, leaving Eddie squirming and pouting, already leaking with how much he wants Richie but he nods, acquiescing almost entirely as a result of the casually commanding tone, the way he clearly has no choice but to agree or risk getting nothing at all. 

Shockingly, breakfast is a relatively playful and normal affair, they dance around each other like they always do, Richie making the bacon while Eddie gets coffee ready and a quick healthy scramble for himself, but when they switch places so Eddie can fry Richie’s eggs in the bacon grease just the way he likes, Richie spins Eddie and gives him a quick kiss followed by a smack to the ass, before slipping off to get everything that’s ready set up on their rickety second-hand dining table. Richie, disgustingly, will only eat eggs if there’s not a single hint of runny centers, so it takes a few minutes for Eddie to finish them, during which Richie returns and drapes himself over Eddie’s back, eyes closed and humming gently. 

For all that there’s a quiet charge to the atmosphere, it’s shockingly nice, and it helps ground Eddie all the more, helps remind him that he’s not just going to get laid but that in fact, the love of his life loves him just the same, so when he shuts the burner off to put the last part of the breakfast on their table, he holds the pan out of the way and leans up on his toes to kiss Richie on the lips - chaste, innocent, a simple contained gesture with no demands, no promise of more - and whispers against his closed lips, “love you,” before stepping away. As he returns to put pan aside so the grease can cool and be saved for later, he catches the look on Richie’s face, the awe in his eyes, the flush high on his cheekbones under his dark stubble, the dopey grin wide across his entire face, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst with how much he really fucking does love this man.

There’s an extensive and detailed discussion as they eat, Eddie stealing a piece of bacon from Richie’s plate with one hand while the fingers of the other are twined with Richies, as are their ankles. They hash out hard limits, soft limits, agree to use the stoplight system as well as a hard and fast safeword, and it's utterly unsexy, frank and matter-of-fact, but Richie’s face is serious and he’s alternating between eating and jotting down notes in a fancy notebook Eddie had bought him for writing his routines in (he protested when Richie pulled it out, to which Richie raised an eyebrow and showed him how the only thing he’s written in it are a list titled ‘cutest things Eddie’s ever done,’ another one titled ‘reasons I need to blow Eddie’s back out’ and then about three pages of increasingly ridiculous combinations of their names interspersed with ‘Eddie Tozier’ in hearts, clearly Richie’s favorite of them, and though he scoffs at it for show, it’s secretly Eddie’s favorite too). It takes longer than he anticipated, but he’s impressed and a little jealous of Richie’s previous partners because he’s done as much research as Eddie but with far more actual practice. He’s sure he’s hiding that worry and envy quite well until Richie concludes they’re finished, shuts the notebook and takes both of Eddie’s hands in his own. “What’s got you nervous, Eddie my love? Because we can keep it vanilla and I’ll be more than fucking thrilled, because it’s you.”

Fuck, he’s so genuine and sincere, so perfect and why did Eddie have to fall in love with the only person he can’t lie to? “I just...” The flush dipping down his chest is obvious with the way Richie’s t-shirt is hanging off one shoulder and he looks down at their joined hands, shy and nervous once again. “What if I’m not good and you don’t like it?” Snapping his head up at the frankly ugly snort from Richie, he’s stunned by the expression on his face. Pure disbelief, kind humor and pure unadulterated lust, just open wanting written across his features.

In an instant he’s around the table, pulling Eddie out of his chair and into his arms, hands huge and just the right side of rough on his face as he crashes his lips into Eddie’s, no gentle warmup, all teeth and tongues and feral energy. And Eddie melts, whining and letting Richie hold him up, his already interested cock filling so fast it hurts, mouth open and just letting Richie take and take and take, hands feeling so tiny across his broad chest, neck bent back so far it hurts and knees weak. It’s okay, though, his knees can be weak because Richie can feel the way he buckles and simply moves his hands to Eddie’s thighs and lifts, broad arms flexing as he easily takes his entire weight, their kiss continuing as if Richie isn’t holding his entire body up. He bites his response to Eddie’s self deprecation into his mouth, “Don’t be a dumb fucking bunny,” and Eddie is instantly slipping down into subspace, despite all his research it’s not something he thought he would ever achieve but he feels all his thoughts drop out of his head, leaving only a desire to please Richie and to be ruined by him. 

It only intensifies when Richie starts carrying towards his bedroom, stopping to slam him into the wall, fingernails digging into his thighs and hard cock pressed against his ass. Eddie whimpers into his mouth, struggling to press down against the solid line of Richie, his hole already clenching with how hungry he is to be filled, but he can’t move at all and he can feel that the grip Richie has on his legs is certainly going to bruise and he’s so fucking desperate for more, to feel Richie inside him so deep he’ll never fucking walk again. “Daddy, daddy, please, I need you!” He’s whining, it’s fucking pathetic, he knows it is but Richie only growls and bites down on his neck, so hard that Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he’s drawing blood and he should be so turned off by that, should be disgusted and angry but his hole throbs and they haven’t made it the bedroom yet but he’s already screaming.

Richie doesn’t lift his teeth, though, just bites down even harder and it feels like he’s chewing, like he’s trying to rend the flesh from Eddie’s bones as he lifts him off the wall and carries them into his bedroom. When they moved in, Eddie said it was stupid for Richie to get a king bed that filled the entire room, but as he’s thrown onto it and his pants are tugged off unceremoniously, he’s so fucking glad they have a bed this big to fuck in, because it means Richie can throw him around the whole thing with no concerns about falling off the edge. He yanks his own shirt over his head, hungry eyes watching as Richie tears his own clothes off, clenching desperately, gaze roaming over the hairy skin, the stupidly big thighs, the massive arms and he saves the best for last to look at.

It’s ridiculous. No one has any reason to have a dick that big. It’s so needlessly big that even though he’s fully hard, it’s still hanging down under its own weight, deep red with protruding veins along the shaft, head flared out in a way that Eddie knows is going to hurt as he takes it and thinking about that has his own cock spurting precome on his stomach. Eddie never thought he’d have any particular interest in balls, even if they belonged to Richie, but fuck was he ever wrong. They’re big too, hanging heavy and full, and they’re covered in a thick layer of wiry black hair, it’s all so overwhelmingly masculine and apparently this is all it takes for Eddie’s filter to be obliterated, words tumbling from his mouth as he confesses a thought he’s never had before, “Richie, Daddy” he whines, high and needy, “I want to suck your balls.” Judging by the way his balls jump and the head beads with a drop of precome and Richie stalks over to the bed, grabbing Eddie by the hair and shoving his face into them, he doesn’t mind.

With a single-minded focus, Eddie dives in, mouth open and tongue dragging across the coarse hairs, so immediately focused that he barely registers the sound of Richie grabbing the oversized bottle of lube with a pump-action that Eddie gave him for Valentine’s Day when Richie was bitching about being single. He moans, sucking gently on the skin in his mouth as Richie starts teasing his hole open, gentle with that hand as he grips Eddie’s neck even harder with the other, grinding his hips forward, cock against Eddie’s cheek as he slips his first finger inside.

It’s perfect in a way that Eddie would have denied that he wanted only a year ago, still so tightly wound in his ideas of what he was allowed to want, vanilla and clean and simple - just sex, not this feral leadup to fucking, base and nasty and intense. He sucks his way up the side of Richie’s cock as a second enters him, looking up to see Richie fixating on watching his fingers dip behind Eddie and inside of him, “Daddy, when was your last test?” He asks, trying and failing to wrap his tongue all the way around his length, blinking wide eyes up at Richie and working his way towards the tip.

“Last month,” he groans in response, fingers scissoring, so much longer and thicker than Eddie’s that he’s fucking back already, feeling the chill air on the wet tip of his cock, “Haven’t been with anyone in a few.” Richie looks down, removing his hand from the back of Eddie’s neck to push his thumb into his mouth, Eddie obediently sucking it and caressing it with his tongue, nipping gently. “Someone had me jerking off multiple times a day with his slutty little displays, presenting his plugged up ass like a fucking whore.” Shameless, Eddie preens and noses at Richie’s cock, sucking the tip into his mouth and accidentally squeaking when Richie shoves a third finger in hard with no warning. The low, mean laugh Richie gives him in response, acting completely unaffected by his mouth infuriates him, makes him feel so little and useless, goes right to his gut with arousal. 

He’s never sucked cock before, but he’s practiced on his toys endlessly and he’s quite proud of the way he gets halfway down the wide shaft before he’s gagging. Blinking up at Richie, he sees the way Richie is panting, regardless of the fake stoicism he’s playing at, the awestuck look in his eyes that he’s trying to hide. It’s the latter that has him blushing, the reminder that no matter how disgusting and vile and brutal this scene is going to get, they’re so in love with each other, it’s that squeezing of his heart that gives him the power to force his throat open with Richie’s cock, that lets him get down to his pubes and fuck it feels like Richie’s in his stomach. A fourth finger fucks into his hole as the back of his head is held in place, he knows all he has to do to get free of the painful grip is tap Richie’s leg twice, but he doesn’t want to. He’s gagging, pulling rough breaths through his nose, saliva pouring out of the corners of his mouth and fat tears running down his cheeks and Richie is moaning, low and dangerous, fucking into his mouth and forcing Eddie to take it as he increases the pace of his fingers until Eddie’s hole is burning and he hasn’t taken a real breath in what feels like hours, black spots threatening the edge of his vision. 

He doesn’t ever want to move. There is nowhere in the world he would rather be, but Richie uses his grip on Eddie’s hair to yank him off, and he coughs, saliva coating him from chin to chest, hole gripping tight at the fingers filling him. Blinking up at Richie with tear filled eyes, voice ruined and throat raw he asks, “Why’d you stop, Daddy?” A thumb brushes his tear away, an echo of their tender moments the night before that makes his heart skip, and he can’t help the soft smile he’s wearing but he’s never felt this good in his entire life, physically or emotionally.

“I only have the one cock, my silly, slutty bunny, I can’t well fuck your ass if I’m still in your mouth.” It’s objectively embarrassing how deep he is in subspace, the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He nods, squeezing tight around Riche’s fingers, and leans back on his knees to make grabby hands at Richie, letting Richie use his mouth with his own the same way he had been using it with his cock, demanding and unyielding, licking the salty taste of his own precome out of Eddie.

There’s simply no way for them to rearrange in a sexy way, it takes some shuffling and nonverbal questions to get Richie sitting back against the headboard, and the pathetic whimper Eddie gives as he gently takes his fingers out makes him grin, yank him unbalanced onto his lap with another bruising grip on his thighs. He falls into Richie, breathless and looks up at him with wide eyes, one hand behind him to stroke Richie’s cock and the other running down his own chest. “Can I ride you, Daddy?” His voice is so fucking ruined, and he’s never been more glad to have the next few days off because he absolutely will not be able to talk and the weight of Richie’s cock in his hand has him doubting he’ll be able to walk either, let alone lead a class of middle aged women in yoga without crying. 

A raised eyebrow and a rough slap to his ass is the only response he gets, the challenge in Richie’s eyes evident, he’s going to have to do the work, and he’s shivering a little at the prospect. Breaking out of his dominant mode for just a second, Richie strokes his cheek and reassures him “Hey, Eds, we can stop now, or at any point. You know that, you have nothing to prove to me, we can go slow.” To which Eddie raises his own eyebrows in response, lifting up and using his grip on Richie’s cock to line it up. The first press of the head is overwhelming, no matter how many toys he’s taken, how good of a job Richie did prepping him, nothing could have truly prepared him for the real thing.

But fuck it’s so much better. It hurts, of course, he can feel the tears running down his face as he tip slides inside, can hear the noises he’s making, sounding like a wounded bunny in a bear trap, but god his cock is leaking like a faucet and if he could live in this moment for the rest of his life he would. Richie is murmuring gentle reassurances but that’s not what Eddie wants, yes it's overwhelming and yes the stretch is painful, and yes he should go slow, but there’s enough lube to coat a three mile slip and slide and he wants. So he closes his eyes, bites down on his lip, takes a deep shaking breath and drops down with his whole body weight. His scream drowns out Richie’s deep groan but he can feel it in his chest, and has to grab his own cock to stop from coming.

“Eddie, what the actual fuck, are you okay?” Richie is running his hands over any part of Eddie’s body he can reach and Eddie is sitting there, moaning with every breath he takes.

“I can feel you,” he manages to whine out, grinding his hips in a circle, “in every fucking part of my body,” breaking off to clench his hole, kissing Richie deeply and scratching at his shoulders with his blunt nails, “Richie, Daddy, you feel so fucking good, oh my god,” panting into his mouth, shivering from his head to his toes, his orgasm feels imminent and he wants to make this good for both of them. So he lifts himself up, and the shift makes him groan, more precome drooling, and Richie’s groaning right along with him as he drops back down.

Richie lets him ride his cock for a while, just murmuring praise and squeezing his ass, fingers dipping down to feel how tight his hole is stretched around Richie’s girth, and Eddie’s head is thrown back and he’s moaning like a bad porn star but he can’t just and then Richie grips Eddie’s cock and he stops moving, shaking his head “Nononono, just your cock, Daddy, only need your cock!” Protesting, he grabs at Richie’s face and god, their chests are heaving and red and Eddie is covered in his own drying saliva and he’s never felt better in his entire life. Every second of this entire experience has been better than the next and Richie pulls his face in close, not even kissing him, just licking across his cheek. It’s fucking vile and if anyone could see him in this moment, split open on Richie’s cock, spit all over his face, rapidly bruising outlines of Richie’s fingers on his thighs, precome all over his chest and thighs, they’d be horrified, they wouldn’t believe it was him at all.

That thought alone is enough to have him bouncing on Richie’s cock again, faster and harder than before, desperate, and his head is thrown back again, mouth wide open as he moans Richie’s name over and over again until he hits his prostate just so and his mouth stays open on a long moan when he feels something hit his tongue, wet and hot. It takes a second for it to register.

Richie just spit a huge nasty wad of his saliva into his open mouth. Eddie blinks up at him, eyes wide and startled, hips slowing down to a slow grind. It’s fucking disgusting. It was on his list of kinks he wanted to try but wasn’t sure he’d like. Blue eyes are searching his expression from behind Richie’s glasses, and he looks so ready to apologize and mentally move it to the list of hard limits, when Eddie looks right into his eyes as he slowly closes his mouth and swallows, licking his lips. “Thank you, Daddy,” and he can barely finish his statement before Richie gripping his hair in one hand and yanking his head back, the other ripping into his thigh with nails, fucking up into with absolute reckless abandon, letting a long trail of spit drip into Eddie’s open and waiting mouth.

It takes a pathetic few thrusts of this before Eddie screams, raw throat ripping open with force of it. He almost blacks out as he comes, feeling it splatter across both of them, ass so tight around Richie’s thick cock that he feels for a second that it’ll never recover, which just prompts an aftershock so intense that he does black out for a second. Luckily, he comes back to his sense just in the right moment, Richie lifting his limp body up and forcing it back down with all his strength as he fills Eddie’s hole with hot come, and Eddie has never experienced anything even close to the sensation but god, he’s going to be feral for it - he’s going to make Richie fuck him full of come at least twice a day, it’s so fucking good, he feels dirty and used and owned.

Breathing hard, he slumps against Richie who in turn presses a kiss to his forehead, pushing the sweaty hair back off it. “You did so good for me, bunny, but we’re not quite done yet, is that okay?” He nods, beaming internally at the praise, and stays limp as Richie gently slips out and rolls Eddie onto his back, though he can’t hold down the whine. Tired eyes watch as Richie kisses down his chest, skipping over the splattered come, as he presses a gentle kiss to his softening kiss, and blink open with no small amount of surprise as Richie presses his lips to Eddie’s battered and sore hole. “I could eat you out for hours, bunny, but you did so good and I’m gonna reward you by not making you cry any more right now.” Kindly, because if Eddie tried to get hard again right now he might actually pass out, Richie makes quick work of fixing his lips to Eddie’s hole and sucking his own come out of it, using his tongue to make sure he gets as much as he can, and Eddie thinks that will be the end of that, but Richie makes his way back up Eddie’s body, gathering as much of his cooling come as he can without losing what’s already in his mouth.

Richie uses his thumb to coax his mouth open and Eddie obediently opens wide, tongue out, and Richie spits the mix of his saliva and their combined cooling come into his mouth. Eddie moans quietly as he pulls his tongue back into his mouth, savoring the flavor for a moment before he swallows all of it, licking his lips to make sure he hasn’t missed any of it. He blinks up at Richie sleepily and smiles, soft and satisfied. “Thank you Daddy,” he whispers, holding his arms open and essentially purring as Richie snuggles into him, kissing him soft and sweet, a perfect counterpart to the way he feels entirely wrecked.

They snuggle in, Richie’s breathing slowly evening out and Eddie’s on the verge of sleep when Richie murmurs into his hair “Marry me,” and it’s clear he didn’t mean for it slip out, at least not when Eddie was still awake, judging by the way his heart picks up when Eddie hums.

But Eddie just noses at Richie’s stubbled chin and smiles. “Sounds like a plan.” He breathes out, loving the way Richie makes a high pitched pleased noise in the back of his throat and squeezes his arms around Eddie so tight. They fall asleep like that, naked, traces of dying come and spit, satisfied and in love.


End file.
